Unforgiven
by borednhomealone
Summary: Father Carlisle Cullen is burnt out. He's tired of listening to the people beg for forgiveness for things they are glad to have done. But will he be able to forgive himself? WARNING: RELIGIOUS THEMES. Do not read if that may offend you. You've been warned.


_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story contains some serious religious themes. Do not read if you may be offended by this. If you read on, and find yourself offended then too bad because I warned you. This is not for the squeamish, although it's not very graphic. **_

_**If you recognize the characters, I don't own them. I do, however, own Lucy. Muwhahahahaha. *evil laughter***_

"Forgive me, Father for I have sinned," a weak voice mumbled from the other side of the confessional. The faces were never seen but the voices had begun to sound familiar over the years; hundreds of them, most with the same stories to tell: foul language, skipping mass, the occasional adulterer; then after a while, they all just blended into one big jumble of meaningless words. The responses had been heartfelt at first, but then they slowly slipped to repetitive mindless solutions to life's problems. _Say your penance and just go away._ The thought that entered his head shocked him as much as the fact that what he had once cared about so much now seemed like a chore. As the last person left the confessional, he wiped a trembling hand across his brow, noticing the small beads of sweat that had started to form. Stepping from the shadows of anonymity, he rested both hands on the back of the pew and stared forward towards the altar, hoping that the feeling of emptiness that settled into his belly was something that would pass as quickly as it set in.

Starting towards the front of the church, he felt a rush of icy air as the front door opened and he turned to see who the visitor was, but there was no one in sight. He glanced back towards the front of the church and felt another rush of cold air surround his body, followed by eerie warmth. Turning back towards the door, he saw a lady standing there, a sinful smile on her colorless face. Nothing about her stood out except a pair of icy blue eyes that seemed to bore right into his soul, sending a chill through him he could feel down to his bones. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Swallowing hard, he tried again as the stranger slowly approached, her long red hair flowing as if a breeze were blowing through the church.

"Can I help you?" he managed to say after a few moments. Stopping before him, she placed her hands on her hips, one side of her luscious lips curling into a wicked grin. She could sense the effect she was having on the man in front of her, and to her it was a game she was playing with him. He could tell she was toying with him like a cat would a mouse, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to leave but he knew as a man of the cloth, he couldn't throw someone out of the church, at least not in good conscience. The longer the silence lasted, the more the feelings inside him stirred; ones that he hadn't felt since the years before seminary; the same feelings that he had been taught to suppress within him. Finally she spoke up.

"Yeah, it's time for confession Father Cullen," she replied, her voice sounding like honey; the gentle tone luring him further into her trap. She could see his entire body tremble as he drew in a ragged breath, the struggle between mind and body raging within him.

"I'm sorry but confession hours are from one to four. You'll have to come back tomorrow," he replied, turning on his heel and walking away, knowing that if he didn't get away from her soon he would be needing to make his own confessions. Almost as if reading his mind, the stranger spoke up again.

"I'm not here for me," she whispering quietly, her words echoing throughout the empty cathedral. "I'm here for you."

"Me? What do you mean me?"

"I've seen your thoughts, Carlisle. I know what goes through your head at night when you're alone. I know all your desires, all the dirty little secrets you carry inside. I know everything about you," she finished with a whisper, stepping into him and running a cold finger along his jaw, further stoking the fire that burned inside his gut. She was pushing him further towards the edge; that point of no return he had thought of so many times but knew was forbidden to cross.

"How did you…?" Carlisle stumbled as the temptress placed a finger against his lips, silencing his protests. He could smell lilies and his eyes fluttered shut as the brush of her fingers against his lips continued to push him towards the brink of losing control. Instinctively, he kissed her finger gently, his eyes flying open after his actions kicked his mind back to the present and to reality. Taking several steps backwards, he raised both arms and tried to wave her off but with every step backwards he took she matched it with one step forward.

"Carlisle, I know what is going through your head right now and I don't know why you're running away from me. We both know what you want, and I can give it to you." Finally, Carlisle stopped and stared back at the stranger before him and felt all reason, logic and sanity fly out the window. All he could feel coursing through his veins were the feelings he had been taught to quell for many years; feelings of lust, greed, and self-indulgence: things that priests were supposed to be able to overcome. These feelings were quickly winning the battle inside him as he took a step towards the beautiful stranger, his hands tangling in her long hair as he pulled her lips to his own, awakening so many long dead feelings within himself that he broke into a sweat and pulled away from her. The light from the day streaked through the stained glass, hitting the face of the woman before him and giving her an alluring yet dangerous look. Like a train wreck, Carlisle couldn't turn away; his eyes were locked with hers and he couldn't tear himself away.

"I'm going to give you want you want," she whispered, her voice husky and dripping with desire as she sunk to her knees in front of him. Her hands went to work quickly, freeing his already hardening cock and bringing it to full life before he had a chance to object. Her mouth felt warm around him, and all rationality flew out the window as her hand ran up and down her shaft in time with her mouth and tongue, her hand cupping his sac as her tongue swirled around his oozing tip, coaxing feelings and sensations from him he either thought were long dead or no longer existed. His hands clenched her hair as he felt himself hit the back of her throat and he moaned out loud, the sounds echoing through the cathedral. Statues seemed to turn away at the travesty that was taking place before them, but Carlisle no longer cared. The only thing he cared about was how he was going to keep the emotions the gorgeous stranger was evoking in him alive. Opening his eyes, he felt his stomach tighten and he locked eyes with the redhead as his seed spilled into her mouth, burst of feelings and sensations he had never felt before radiating through his body and weakening his knees. He cried out, his eyes focused upwards as tears streamed down his cheeks as his transgression hit home.

Sinking to his knees, he failed to notice the stranger had vanished, leaving him feeling more empty that he ever had in his life. Wiping the dampness from his eyes, he looked around the empty church and was nearly deafened by the silence that surrounded him. The same statues that had seemed to look away moments ago now seemed to be staring him down with nothing but pure disdain. Rising to his feet, he tried to shake the feeling of guilt from himself but it seemed to worsen. Carlisle sunk into the safety of his cassock, trying desperately to hide himself from what he had just done. A man of the cloth defiling the church; Carlisle hung his head in shame.

"Where are you?!" he cried out, only to be answered by the echo of his own voice. He ran down the aisle and out the front door, only to be greeted by an empty sidewalk. Turning and walking dejectedly back into the church, he felt the same emptiness he felt a moment ago return. Stopping, he realized that feeling went away when we ran outside. He called out again, and after a moment of silence he realized the shadows weren't going to answer. As he approached the altar, a gush of cold air rushed by him and he turned to see the redhead standing at the back of the church, her finger in the now boiling stationary font. Seeing this made Carlisle's skin crawl, and he quickly swallowed a nervous lump in his throat.

"Who are you?!" he shouted his voice rumbling through the normally somber and quiet structure. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm the one you've been trying to save yourself and your parishioners from for the last ten years," she offered with a smirk. "I have many names, most of which I'm not that fond of, but you can call me Lucy. And as far as what I want…" Pausing, she appeared in front of Carlisle in a flash, her movements too quickly to be seen by human eyes.

"You no longer have anything I need," she replied, placing a hand on his chest. Carlisle could feel his breath catch in his throat and his heart pound as she opened her lips to speak. He could feel the life and spirit slowly slip from his body, the sensation leaving his limbs tingling and numb. He felt as if someone had just sucked out his last breath. Carlisle leaned heavily against the pew in front of him as the redheaded stranger wrapped long, icy finger around his neck and toyed with his hair. She laughed a low, heinous laugh that left him cold and empty. The woman leaned in towards him, her breath frigid against his ear as she spoke.

"Your soul now belongs to me."


End file.
